The Cause and Effect Saga - Extra: Bruises
by Faylinn Night
Summary: Bruises. They ache. They mare. And sometimes, they last ages. But in the end, they always heal. It just takes time, time Mia is willing to sacrifice for her daughter Nia. [OC-Centric Drabbles] [Nia; Mia; sorta Gavin]
1. Favorites

**A/N:** I won't even apologize. "The Distance" is still being a beast, but that isn't why I've started...this.

Call it a character study. In it, we'll delve into the history between Nia and Mia and kinda sorta Gavin (if I can stomach it OTL). And several instances that Nia mentions in passing during the main "Cause and Effect" story-line.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 01:** **FAVORITES**

The hybrids' cheeks felt soft beneath Hamato Nia's fingers, like peaches. Her attention shifted from left to right. Selene to Nyx. Silent to grunting.

"Something wrong, Baby?" Mia asked.

Nia sensed her mother turn from the laundry pile that had brought them together and sighed. "How do some women do it?"

"Do what?"

"Pick favorites."

A swoosh sounded from beside the washer and dryer; the unraveling of a bed sheet. "Do you feel like you're supposed to? Should we give one up?"

"What? No!" Nia twisted on the floor so she no longer watched the infants sleeping on their mats. Her mother met her with a bemused grin as the older brunette continued folding a bed sheet across her wheelchair. "Not funny, Mama."

"You made it easy."

"It's a serious question."

"How come?"

Nia's hand crept towards her babies' fingers, stroking them. "It's been hard sleeping since Raph and the others left. Last night I was up with Nyx, watching a documentary."

"About?"

"A single mom with a big family. She talked about the struggles of food, schooling, clothes."

A pile of colorful onesies were stacked in Mia's hand before Nia could draw her next breath. "Excuse me. I'm happily making sure my grandbabies are clothed and fed."

Nia chuckled, albeit forcedly. "Which I'm thankful for. That wasn't what kept me watching, though."

"Then what did?"

"The mother could afford few gifts. Even the camera crew noticed. She doted on the oldest middle child. Let him pick dinners and favorite clothes. Asked his opinion most. Surprised him with gifts. I think he was the only one born from a marriage."

"Did the marriage fall apart?"

"The show never said. But…I think he died." Nia's fingers traveled further up Nyx's hand then to Selene's arm, so she touched them both. "Even if the kids shared different fathers. And even if she hated those fathers. How could she favor one? I—I wondered before the twins were born how I could love them as equals. But the moment I saw them, I did. It just…happened. How could she just _decide_ one was better than the rest?"

"I'll tell you a secret." Leaning over the clothes in her lap, Mia whispered. "I'm guilty too; you've always been my favorite."

Nia fought a smile as her mother bopped her nose with a finger. "Only children don't count."

"Of course they do, Ni. Especially adopted ones. I picked you."

"And why? What made me better?"

Mia's sunken cheeks sucked in further, their depth leaving her with the illusion of dark blush. "It's not that you were better, Baby. It was about our connection. That feeling you had when you first saw Nyx and Selene? I felt that too. When I met you."

"Even though I wasn't really yours."

"You know blood means nothing."

"But you picked a favorite. Me. Out of all the other kids who needed homes."

"I couldn't adopt everyone." The older brunette laughed through her nose, although the humor was morbid. "Sometimes, mothers can't help it. Like my Mom."

"Your mom had a favorite?"

"You're looking at her." Mia moved the clothes from her lap to the dryer top, pulling out new sheets to fold. "My brothers used to be so jealous on my birthday. I was the middle child, but like that boy, first to get everything. A computer. A phone. A car. It drove Brett batty."

"Isn't Brett…?"

Mia paused, mid-fold, with a strained smile. "I was such a bitch to him and Tanner."

"Mama!"

"It's true. As a teen, I was spoiled rotten. If I could go back in time, I'd slap myself. Tell me to appreciate my brothers, so I could at least meet my nephew and nieces. I'd also tell myself not to believe the adults about Amy's depression. Maybe then Brett would've been spared…"

Cold pangs pierced the center of Nia's brain—like death's claw suddenly chilled her from the top down. She flinched, yet stayed silent. Selene twitched under her mother's hand. Her arm hit Nyx, riling a whine as Mia resumed folding. Nia scooped up Nyx before her cry woke Selene and situated her in a football hold.

"Daddy does this better, but." Nia bounced the tiny hybrid, her hand patting the hardened scutes along Nyx's back in hopes her muscles would ease.

"The answer is: no one knows, Ni," Mia said softly. The chill of her guilt lingered inside Nia, spreading. "We don't choose our connections. They're…sparks. But we should appreciate them."

"I do," Nia whispered. She glanced down. While the green being clinging to her forearm had hardly grown since her birth, the joy she and her twin brought increased day by day. That, too, was hard to fathom. "I could never pick Selene or Nyx over each other."

"Personally"—Mia wheeled forward to tuck some loose hairs behind her daughter's ear—"I can't picture you with favorites. No matter _how_ many kids you're blessed with."

A smile tugged at Nia's mouth. "You think I'll have more babies?"

"Considering how often Raphael asks about your stitches? If they're healed by the time he comes home, you'll have to beat him off with a stick."

Mia snorted as Nia sniggered. The woman reached for Selene and, with aid, cradled the coconut-size hybrid. She ran a finger along Selene's smooth profile until the chill in Nia melted, blossoming with warmth through her chest and stomach.

"You're a good mommy," Mia whispered.

Nia mirrored her mother's smile, whispering in return, "Thanks. So are you."


	2. Never

**A/N:** Mia...had a hard, hard time before Nia came along...

 _Zathura_ , hey, man! Nice to see you pop up. And glad you enjoyed the mother/daughter bond. That's the core of this drabble series.

 _Duckie_ , I get ya. "Favorites" was actually inspired from my mother, who feels similarly with her grand-babies. Mason, the oldest, she adores to no end. She loves the second, Weston, too. But, like you have a preference, she prefers Mason...heh.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 02:** **NEVER**

The fierce jabs in Mia Anders' pelvis were numbed by a single phrase.

"I'm sorry, Misses Anders, but…"

It was impossible. She'd tried so many times over the last three years. And now it was impossible.

The brunette stared from her hospital bed, hoping, praying she'd find sick humor hidden somewhere in her doctor's aged face. There was none. Grimness deepened his wrinkles—proof this hell wasn't a joke—and words flew from his lips like a silent movie.

' _We had no choice,_ ' the subtitles read.

No choice? Bullshit! There must've been another way, another solution. A Hysterectomy couldn't have been the only option. Could it?

Mia's prickling eyes fell on her hands. The nurses had cleaned them long ago, but she could still feel thick blood between her fingers like hot tar. Blood from her twenty-seven-week-old baby. Her little girl. Her…her…

Her fifth and final miscarriage.

Shaking, Mia beat the bed's comforter. Damn the doctor! Why must he continue talking?

She understood she'd never feel a heartbeat inside her womb again. That she'd never hear her child's cries or caress their skin. Her children would never walk or run or jump. They'd never call for her or kiss her. She got it; her body destroyed them. So why keep talking?

Beep. Beep.

"Shut up!" Mia screamed. She folded in half, screwed her eyes shut, and covered her ears to block out the EKG's maddening beeps. They grew louder. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut! Up!"

Her name sounded from somewhere. She didn't care where. She didn't care by whom. She only cared about those damn beeps and what her doctor reminded her of.

Mia was alive. Her babies weren't. And she had no way to bring them back.


	3. Cold

**A/N:** I swear, my characters carry around heavy shit. It's mostly unplanned. And when the gravity of things hits me, I'm like "What have I done?" But they keep moving forward, don't they? What soldiers...

 _Zathura_ , _Sciencegal_ , yeah. Just...yeah. I tried to make this one a little lighter.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 03:** **COLD**

Faint breathing broke through the darkness in Nia's bedroom. The young woman lay in bed, her twins slumbering between her and Mia on the bed's other side.

"Mama," she whispered. "You awake?"

Mia released a slow sigh. "Am I that obvious?"

"A little. Are—" Nia held her breath when Nyx grunted beside her. "Are you okay?"

"I'll fall asleep soon enough."

"Th—that's not what I mean."

"You mean your father then? We've talked about that, Baby. He understands my staying here. With Raphael gone—"

"I'm not talking about Raph o—or Daddy either."

A pause followed, filled by inhales and a chill that made Nia feel like she stood outside in the February snow. She pulled the electric blanket up further. Despite its high setting, her fingers and toes tingled.

"This is the first time I noticed," Nia continued. "Last year, you were in a coma. The years before that I—I…I had no idea what this _side_ of me meant."

"It is marvelous," Mia said in a low tone. The bed creaked. Nia felt cold fingertips brush her temple, although Mia likely aimed for her daughter's cheek. "I know I've said it before, but I'm proud of you and how far you've come."

"You remember I'm…a mood detector now, right?"

"Michelangelo makes the funniest descriptions."

"Mama, I feel it."

Mia sighed again, the bed shifting as she drew back her arm.

"It's cold in my arms, my legs, my chest," added Nia. She swallowed in hopes of clearing her throat with little result. "Do you—are you in pain?"

The woman waited several agonizing seconds before answering, "Yes."

"It's one of their birthdays, isn't it?"

"It is…"

"Which one?"

Mia giggled—a forced, morbid action. "Roseline."

"My middle name."

"Oh, Nia, I never wanted you to feel this. Ever."

The bed shook, and Nia prepared herself should her mother slide into her wheelchair. "Is there any way I can make it better, Mama?"

"Baby," Mia whispered, broken, "nothing can take away the pain of a lost child. Adeline knows."

"You've talked about your miscarriages with Adeline?"

"A bit, but…we both agreed it hurt too much. That's why I…I never mentioned them when you were growing up."

"I've never even been to their graves." Nausea struck Nia suddenly, but she knew it was her mother who almost heaved.

"Forgive me, Ni. I—I couldn't. Gavin and I endured three hellish years before we found you. Back then, I—I—I wasn't ready to—" The woman sniffled then swallowed then sniffled again. "I couldn't soil my joy with something so dark. You needed healing too. Then it got to the point where…my courage dried up. I couldn't do it. It hurt like hell and—"

"It still does," Nia interjected.

The woman's sniffles were like knives, and Nia scooted closer to the twins in search of Mia's hand. When she found it, she rubbed a thumb along its varicose veins, resting it on the feet of her children.

"How'd you do it?" whispered Nia. "How'd you survive this cold pain enough to have so many miscarriages?"

Mia's bony fingers tightened. "I prayed. Day and night. And I hoped. My family had given up on me, so I refused to give up on my children. Even if…if I…" Her hand began trembling. "February. May. July. August. October."

Nia flinched, Bishop's sick smile invading her mind before her mother continued.

"I'm reminded of something terrible for nearly half the year."

"I couldn't imagine." Nia tucked her chin towards Nyx's warm head and brought her hold on Mia to Selene's rising chest. "If these two hadn't made it, I…Mama, I wouldn't have been brave enough. I wouldn't have been able to take that risk again."

"But you may anyway. You want more later on, right?"

Nia drew in a wavering breath.

"Ni, you know why I kept trying. I wanted a baby so bad. It felt unfair. For all those women who don't want kids but can have them, there are those who fight like warriors for their own. And fail." Another morbid laugh. "A lot."

"Hope." Nia shook her head, inhaling a coconut scent from Nyx. "Hope is hard to keep. And you've gone all these years, looking at a calendar full of death days. That didn't drive you mad?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I had you."

Nia smiled weakly at how her mother rubbed her hand in return. Their touch returned life to their fingers.

"You saved me, Nia," Mia whispered. "You have no idea."

"I have a bit of one," Nia countered.

"Well, _now_. But honestly. Every time I'd think about Roseline, Ariel, Gillian, or the two who—who were never named, I'd look at you. And I'd remind myself that we needed each other. That I wouldn't fail you."

"And you haven't."

"Even though you never confided in me about your migraines?"

"That…"

"I know, Baby. It's passed. With or without me, you found balance. Now I have two adorable grand-kiddos to distract me from anything dark."

"You're okay with—"

"Nia." Mia's voice came stern and hoarse. "I carried them. I felt their blood. And if I bring them any further to the front of my mind, no smile will ever make the world okay again. Understand?"

"Yeah. I understand…"

Nia intertwined her fingers with her mother's as silence befell them. The breathes in the bedroom steadied and lengthened. Soon, Mia's hand relaxed, leaving Nia with a small smile.

Her mother was no longer cold.


	4. Spark

**A/N:** Everything is bitter-sweet. My gosh. Thanks for the reviews, _Zathura_ and _Sciencegal_. :)

Starting to think I should update these stories once a week. Like, assign days/semi-deadlines or something...IDK.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 04:** **SPARK**

Warner-Frost Services for Families and Children looked quaint yet established—if barely. They were the youngest adoption agency on Mia's list. Also, the last. Knowing this, the brunette steeled her resolve and followed a boisterous elderly woman in designer glasses and an extravagant boa.

"Wh—what about the paperwork, Miss Flemming?" Mia asked.

"Paperwork?" Irma Flemming parroted. She snorted then waved a hand above her boa. "Paperwork is last, Darling."

"But." Mia trotted to keep up with the shorter woman's strides through the building. "Everywhere else has involved a lot of paperwork. I'd rather get it done as soon as possible, so—"

"This service is nothing like that," Irma interjected. "Warner and Frost knew better. They taught me better. Trivial legalities and psychological profiles shouldn't hinder the adoption process."

Sparing a look at Gavin, Mia rounded a corner then headed up a flight of stairs alongside her husband and guide. "Wh—what's that mean? Psychological profiles are necessary."

Irma turned on the stairs. At eye-height with Mia, the elder stared through bright eyes under green eyelids, her expression severe. "Necessary to ensure you two are emotionally and financially prepared, yes. But to match you with a child based on that?" Irma scoffed. "I need to see it happen."

"See what?"

Irma broke out in a smile. "The spark, Darling! Papers don't determine who people connect with. These children have gone through so much. They deserve a chance to live with someone who they feel will not only be a parent, but a friend, a rehabilitator. That is why you'll meet them all."

"Huh? Ho—how many is all?" As Irma continued up the stairs, the brunette hesitated. She licked her chapped lips then faced Gavin. He looked paler than usual behind his round glasses.

"This is all arseways," he said in an undertone.

Mia smiled at the Irish slur not often heard. "Scared, Gav?"

Gavin's green eyes found his wife, but he remained silent.

"I'm serious," Mia added. "You've been stiff ever since…since the first agency. Kids are just little people, not commandos waiting to kill you in your sleep." The brunette chuckled, although what little humor she could muster fell short when she reflected on the last few years. "Look. If—if you've changed your mind then—"

"I haven't. I just…"

Mia caught her husband's hand. It felt clammy in her grasp and she squeezed it, watching his stoic profile soften.

"I know how much you need one," he whispered. "I do my best to help."

"You are acing medical school for us, aren't you?" The redhead's lips twitched before Mia continued. "Gavin, I—"

"Darlings!" A sudden, booming voice earned the couple's attention. They glanced up at the stairs' top, where Irma's boa puffed around her like a distressed cat. "Have I been talking to air this whole time? Come, come! The children await!"

* * *

Laughter surrounded Mia, sounds from an intricate playroom. The brunette had hoped the noise would bring peace. Instead, she felt weighted by guilt—like she had no right for happiness when her body had already snuffed out five lives. She had a feeling Gavin felt just as heavy…

Sighing, Mia deviated from Irma's tour. She found a couch away from the indoor jungle gym and collapsed on its cushions. The couch cried in protest.

"Oh, my gosh!" Mia bounced back up, heart thumping as she studied the furniture.

She checked the seats. Nothing. Beside the arms rests. Also nothing. Odd. Stepping ahead, the brunette peered behind the couch. It casted a deep shadow in the otherwise bright room, which shaded a toddler between the couch back and a cubby recessed into the lower wall.

"Oh," Mia said. "He—hello there."

The toddler peered through wild, dark hair and heaved. Mia paused at the distress, watching the toddler shake, whimper, and then scramble towards the cubby.

"Misses Anders?" Irma arrived at Mia's side without bothering to glance behind the couch. "Ah, found our little mouse?"

"Who is she?" Mia asked.

"All we know is that she's three year old."

"That's it?"

"Unfortunately. I found her months ago, Darling. Wandering. Near naked. Crying in the snow. She doesn't speak. Barely eats. And no one can touch her."

"Is that why she's so dirty?"

"Yes. Last worker who tried bathing her, well…" Irma's bright lips puckered. "She was bit."

"The girl _bit_ her?"

"Trauma, Darling. You can't blame the dear. I just wish I knew what had happened. Maybe then I could help more."

Mia returned to the cubby. She met the toddler's eyes. They were wide, puffy, and a beautiful shade of blue-green—almost inhumanly so. The brunette lowered herself, smiling despite how her limbs tingled and the girl's tears increased.

"Hi," she said, gentle. "I'm Mia. Do you have a name?"

No reply.

"Do you know English?" Mia continued. "You could be Spanish with such dark skin. Are you? Sorry, I don't know much Spanish."

The toddler sniffled, stoically crying, yet kept focused on Mia.

"Interesting," Irma muttered.

"What is?" Gavin's voice made the toddler jump.

She spun, looked up, then froze. Mia could hear her teeth chatter under Gavin's stare, his build imposing against the sunlight beyond the couch's other side. Her whimpers strengthened into screams as she scampered backwards like a frightened animal. Mia caught the toddler and held onto her throughout her kicks, squirms, yells, and bites.

"It's okay," Mia whispered. The toddler squirmed harder, whining. "It's okay, Baby. You're safe."

"Dixon!" Irma screamed over the children's clamoring. "Dixon, get in here!"

"I not getting bit again!" a younger voice countered.

' _Coward_ ,' Mia thought.

She strengthened her hold, arching so the girl had no leverage to push or twist. Blood dribble down her forearm, yet she endured the burn, pushing the toddler's head against her racing chest.

"It's okay," she repeated. "No one will hurt you."

The toddler squirmed again, only weaker.

"That's it. It's okay. You're safe."

"For—forgive me," Irma said. She sounded winded. "Mister Anders, would you please remove your glasses?"

"She doesn't like glasses?" Gavin asked. His tone tensed the toddler's body again.

"That's why I kept on this side of the couch, Darling."

Mia watched Gavin. To any outsider, he seemed unbothered. His wife knew better, though, and her heart ached when he removed his glasses like a shamed child. She sent a small smile he couldn't see, rubbing the toddler's arm with soothing shushes.

"Ju—just listen to your heart, okay?" added Mia. "Ignore everything else. Listen to it beat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. That's a good thing. It means you're okay. You're okay…"

"Incredible," whispered Irma.

Mia met the balking elder through a white haze. "Wh—what is?"

"No one has ever talked the dear down. We usually have no choice except let her cry herself to sleep."

"You leave her to cry?"

Irma's painted lips grew taunt, like her many wrinkles. "Understand, Misses Anders. Not many are willing to deal with such a…special case. A child must long for help as well."

"So she"—Mia laid a check against the toddler's messy hair—"she hasn't let anyone help."

"Until now."

Mia's eyes stung as she pulled the toddler up further. The poor thing smelled like sour onions, whined as articulately as an infant, and her skin felt greasy. But beneath that, her muscles relaxed, and Mia focused on the thumps in her and the girl's chests.

No child deserved abandonment or should be considered too much trouble to help. Not like Mia had been deemed. And if no one else would give her a chance…

"I want to help," Mia said, near tears.

"Darling," Irma started.

"I understand the work involved. I do. But if anyone can help her through being abandoned, I could." Mia met Irma's gaze and had no idea if her shakes were hers or the toddler's. "She deserves someone who knows what it's like."

"Yes," the older woman said softly, "she does. Thoughts, Mister Anders?"

It'd be unfair to flash a pleading look. Still, Mia couldn't help herself.

Gavin shoved his fists into his slack pockets to maintain a cool composure. "I think without glasses, I'll be attending school with constant bruises," he said, listless. "But…Mia excels at heroism."

"You believe your wife can do it, Darling?"

"…I do."

"Marvelous!" Irma chuckled, her boa ruffling when she flashed a grin. "I saw it," she added, lower, "a spark."

Mia closed her eyes then inhaled. "I felt it," she whispered, "in our heartbeats. I can save this one."

"This one, Darling?"

The brunette smiled—not at Irma but at Gavin. He was the only one who needed to understand. And he did. Good, because Mia doubted she could let the toddler go.

* * *

 **A/N:** I feel like Mia just adopted an abused puppy. LOL. Also, I'm starting to realize Nia's anxiety has been a part of her for all her life...Damn.


	5. Night Owl

**A/N:** A belated Christmas present. lol. I meant to get it out yesterday, but I spent too much time with the family. So.

Enjoy some Mia/Nia-ness. Also, be sure to check out my other OC-centric drabbles, " _Lone Star_ " (centered around Sophia's life in Italy) and " _War_ " (centered around my latest main TMNT OC, Coyolxauhqui and her tribe). " _Glass_ " had been updated last night as well. C:

* * *

 **"NIGHT OWL"**

Mia fought the urge to glance behind the couch, knowing the act would unnerve her new daughter. "You're a regular night owl, aren't ya?" she asked. "I can't believe you slept there all day. Again. Don't your legs ever hurt?"

Some shuffling sounded from behind. Mia hoped they meant the toddler had worked up enough courage to take the sippy cup and crackers set between the couch and living room wall.

"You can't live under furniture forever, Baby," Mia said. She smiled, watching the muted television that flickered light through the otherwise dark room. "But it's okay. Even if you can't understand yet, I want you to know I'll be here. Right in this spot. Facing forward until you're ready to look at me without…"

Mia recalled last week with a sigh. She was still dumbstruck over how many drugs had been pumped into the toddler just to keep her docile. Mia had held her daughter—from Warner-Frost Services to home—paying close attention to the panicked heart she felt through the toddler's back. The girl's blue-green eyes had been part-way open the entire time, and below their drug-induced glaze, terror had reigned. Even the memory of them sunk Mia's stomach.

"Hey, Night Owl." Mia paused and only continued after she heard soft crunching. "Do you like your new name? It's a shame we don't know your real one, but…I like what I picked. Nia. Want to know what it means?"

The crunching grew louder as the couch shifted forward a fraction.

"It has two meanings," added Mia. "I like them both. The first is Swahili, which is African. In that language, it means 'purpose' or 'aim'. The second is a Welsh form of the Irish name 'Niamh', which means 'bright' or 'radiant'. Both are fitting, I think. What do you think?"

Wild hair caught Mia's attention, like a mop head peeking around the couch. The woman sent Nia a sidelong glance, but the moment their gazes connected, Nia recoiled.

"Still hungry?" asked Mia. "I'll make you a sandwich."

Mia left for the kitchen, well-aware of the eyes that followed her. If she had learned anything over the last few years, it was perseverance. So even if it meant laying food out every night for the rest of her life, she would continue to strive for Nia's trust. And anticipated the day their eyes would meet and Nia wouldn't look away.


End file.
